GermanyxItaly
by Melissa Samuelsen
Summary: Judst a short fluff peice about Italy and Germany. Italy has hurt himself and Germany decides to help nurse him back to health.
1. Chapter 1

___Vhy is he always late? Every freaking day..._training_ is at 6:30 und it doesn't change. _The tall blonde man shook his head, stomping down the hall. Once again his compatriot missed the morning roll call. _Just vonce I'd like him to be all "Hey Germany it's-a me Italy. And look, I'm-a early!" _He swung open the door "Ok, time to get up." Causally he walked to over to his friends bed and sat in the chair beside it. "Italy? Vake up, it's 7:00." A scowl spread on his face. "Get your ass out of zat bed or so help me I will send you to Britain's house for dinner!"

"Please don't do that Germany, I will be a good boy I-a promise". Italy, a thin brunette man, rolled over in his bed to face his superior.

"Are you going to give me a lame excuse for your tardiness?"

"Yes...no I mean 'no.' Well it's a reason but not an excuse." The way Germany looked at him in the mornings always scared Italy...to be more exact Germany always scared Italy but the mornings were even more terrifying for some reason. "It might-a sound like an excuse, most reasons do, but it's the truth. A truthful excuse, not a lie filled excuse."

"SHUT UP!" The blonde sighed, rubbing his temples. "Just shut up. Meine gute, don't you have off button?"

"I don't-a know what you mean."

"Tell me vhy you vere late...again."

"It's-a my foot." Italy pulled the covers up to his face. "You see I was at-a big brother France's house bouncing on his new trampoline. It's-a really nice and bouncy. But I wanted to go-a higher so big brother France said 'we bouncie to together and go really high' so we did...and then I fell...and I broke my foot." He frowned.

"This vas yesterday?"

"No...last week."

"Und you just got home last night?"

"Well big brother France got-a scared, and very pale for some reason, and said he didn't know what-a to do. So we go to Britain's house, but he didn't want that 'Francy pants' in his house because of some sort of marriage proposal...I still don't know what-a he means by that...so Britain called America but he was to busy to-a come over. So they just put me in a crate and send me home."

"Zey just pack you up in a crate?!"

"Well they gave me some water and some soggy, green bread. It-a didn't taste that good...and the fuzzy tickled my nose." Italy smiled.

"Did zey at least properly wrap your foot?"

"With the bread?"

Germany sighed loudly. "No, with a bandage."

"Why would they give me a bandage?"

"For your foot..." The blonde paused, grumbling to himself. "Vhy do I even bother? You can't follow simple phrases or ideas." The pair exhanced confused glances and he continued. "Let me see your foot."

"No."

"No?!"

"You're going to-a touch it, and that makes more owies." Italy pulled the covers up to his nose, so that only his eyes were showing.

"I'm not going to touch it...or make a ze 'owies'."

"Promise?"

"DAMNIT ITALY JUST SHOW ME YOUR FOOT!"

Reluctantly the shaking young man popped his foot out for his friend to see. For the most part it looked normal, just like his other foot, but it had a large dark purple bruise along the side. "It's awful isn't it?" Italy cringed at the sight of it, certain it was mangled beyond recognition and needing to be amputated. "I'm-a get gangrene and die."

"That's it? A puny little bruise?" Germany sighed. "And here you had me thinking it was something more serious."

"It is-a serious!"

"I've seen worse injuries at the fuhrer's lawn party." The large man paused before standing. "Zere should be some bandages in the bathroom. Let me go get zem so I can wrap that foot of yours."

"Will it make the owies go away?"

"Probably not. If anything it will make ze 'owies' worse." Italy cringed at Germany's words. "But it's ze only way to make it better."

"If you say so Germany." He looks away with an expression of fear on his face. "You wouldn't tell me to do something that would hurt me."

"You give me to much credit."

While searching for something to wrap his comrades foot Germany remembers that he let his other comrade Japan borrow it just a few weeks ago. Already exhausted from dealing with Italy, Germany decides it would just be better to go buy a new on instead of trying to get his back from Japan. "That guy is such a pain to deal vith."

He heads to the supermarket just down the street thinking it shouldn't take longer then a few minutes. "Hey Germany!" A familiar voice called from behind him. "What are you doing here dude?!"

_This guy? Vhy do I have such good luck. _"America! Small vorld, yes? Running into you while shopping."

"Yea man. I was just stopping bye to pick up some hamburger patties for the Fourth of July picnic. It's gonna be siiiccck!"

"I can only imagine." Poor Germany. He tried to slink away, but he couldn't evade the watchfull eye of America.

"What are you doing to celebrate?"

"I don't celebrate it."

"Well why the hell not!" the young mans voice was rising. "It's an important day!"

"For you perhaps. But not for everyvne." Germany turned and looked away. "Does Britain celebrate with you? I think not."

America's expression dropped and his eyes began to well with tears. "Germany why do you have to be such a douche!" He turned and ran.

With an exasperated sigh Germany continued his search for bandages. After what seemed like an eternity, and several awkward conversations with Russia, China and Lithuania, he finally was able to go back home. "Italy, I am back."

"Germany? GERMANY!" Italy called, panicstricken. "Are you-a alright?"

"Of course I'm alright, why wouldn't I be." He rounded the corner and was surprised to see Italy laying on the floor in the hall. "Was vom teufel?! How'd you get out here?!" The large blonde ran to his friends side and picked him up, cradling the smaller boy in his arms.

"You said that you were-a getting me bandages from-a the bathroom. So I was like 'Oh that Germany is so nice to me. I hope he doesn't take-a to long.' But then you _did_ take-a to long. And I thought 'Oh no! What happened to my good friend Germany? Did he get-a lost?!' But then I thought no, you wouldn't get-a lost in your own house. How silly of me. But if you didn't get-a lost then what happened. So I thought of the only logical explination."

"And that is vhat?" Once back in the bedroom he laid Italy on his bed.

"Toilet monster."

"Come again?"

"You got eaten by a toilet monster. It came-a right out of the toilet and swallowed you whole! So I said-a to myself, I said 'Italy you have-a to save him! This is Germany we are-a talking about. He'd do the same-a for you.' So I jumped out of bed and ran down the hall."

"You made it five feet."

"The owies were to much for me."


	2. Chapter 2

Germany grumbled to himself, wrapping the brunette's foot carefully. It wasn't nearly as bad as either of them first thought but Italy would still need to try and stay off of it for a few days. The thought of not having to deal with Italy for a few days made Germany happy. Yet part of him knew it was too good to be true. "Stay in bed for the next few days, try not to walk too much if you don't have to. I'll excuse you from training ok?"  
"Oh thank you Germany! You are-a to kind to me." Italy beamed with joy.  
A few hours later while putting Japan through the course of training they heard a familiar screaming from the second floor. "What do you think that's arr about?"  
"Probably Italy dying."  
"We cloud onry be so rucky." Japan sighed. "You should go check on him."  
"Can't I just let him suffer?" Germany cast a smile to his friend, but was only met with a scowl. "Alright, alright. I'm going."  
Into the house the blonde went, muttering under his breath a list of ways he'd like to kill the pasta loving man. Once he made his way up the stairs the screams of agony became louder. All this did was anger Germany even more. "What is it now Italy?!"  
"I'm hungry."  
"So you scream the bloody murder?!"  
Italy became quiet. "I tried to-a get up, but the ..."  
"Ze owies, yes I know." Germany interrupted. "So vhy not just say "Hey Germany, make me a sandwich?"  
"I didn't want-a to interrupt you."  
"To late for zat." He rolled his eyes. "What would you like to eat? And please don't say pasta."  
"Um..." the brunette frowned. "Then I don't know."  
"I'll whip something up. Stay here...and this time don't get out of bed ok?"  
"Mhmm. Yes sir!"  
Trying his best to keep his temper under control Germany slaved away in the kitchen, making a meal for the three comrades. Once the masterpiece was completed he cleaned up and brought a plate to his indisposed friend. "Here. It's Spaetzle."  
"Spaetzle?" Italy poked it with the spoon. "And what-a is a Spaetzle?"  
"German noodles. Now eat!" Germany sat across of the brunette and watched him intensely. With all the work he put into making this food, he wanted to make sure it was eaten.  
Taking a small bite, Italy cringed. There was very little taste and the noodles themselves were mushy. "Mmmmm...tastes great Germany.""You going to eat it or just poke it until it surrenders?"  
"Can I really decide to just-a poke it?"  
"No." Germany scowled. "Noodles are pasta...so you should like it."  
"I know what-a pasta is, and _this_ is not pasta." Italy took a spoonful and let it plop back into the bowl. "It's-a mush."  
"It's German. Everything ve make is harsh and tasteless." He pushed the bowl towards his friend.  
"Don't make me eat it Germany!"  
"It'll put ze hair on your chest, make you a man."  
"What if I don't want-a to be a man!" Italy pushed it back.  
"Zen vhat would you be?!"  
"Kitties are cute. Can I be that?"  
"You can't be a kitty Italy!"  
"Why not? They are-a soft and cuddly."  
"Because I have ze allergies and Japan will try to make you into Yakitori." The blonde shook his head. "That is beside ze point! Italy you must eat the Spetazle, be a man and not a kitty cat and zat is the end of it!"  
"You're so mean Germany." Italy looked away with a pout on his face. "I would have made a cute cat and you would have liked it."  
"Well we vill never know." He stood and pushed the bowl over one last time. "This had better be empty vhen I return."

As the days passed Germany and Japan enjoyed their training in relative quiet. Occasionally Italy would start screaming about being thirsty, or hungry, or that his bandages were itchy. Germany would always come to his injured comrade's aide. Italy was starting to think that Germany must have had a softer side. It was still rather mean and unforgiving, like most of the things Germany did, but he could tell that his friend genuinely cared and wanted help him feel better. He enjoyed seeing his large friend this way and it saddened him to think that it would all come to an end once he was healed. If only he could find a way to make these days last for ever.

Japan started to notice that as the weeks passed Italy didn't seem to get any better. At first he didn't want to mention it to Germany for fear of being brutally maimed, but he started to get concerned and couldn't ignore the situation any longer. While helping to wash the dishes he decided to bring it up. "Germany, don't you think Itary shourd be heared by now?"

"Most people would be but Italy is...delicate."

"Dericate?" Japan paused and handed Germany a plate.

"He isn't like most people." He put the plate in the cabinet and motioned for another. "It takes him longer to get over zings."

"But doesn't this seem excessive? It's been almost four months!"

"Just give him time."

"Germany, are you rearry this brind? He's taking advantage of you."

"No one takes advantage of Germany." He turned around and glared at Japan. "You must be mistaken."

"It's just my opinion. Don't freak out." Japan shrugged and walked out of the room leaving the muscular blonde with his thoughts.

Was Italy really using him? No...he wouldn't do that. Italy was to nice and kind hearted...and weak! Germany paced the length of the kitchen mumbling to himself. There was no way that puny little pasta-loving Italy was taking advantage of him. He was Germany for crying out loud! No one could get the best of him, no one! He pounded his fist on the counter. But what if...what if he was? What if someone had been pulled one over on him? What if Italy was able to get him to do whatever he wanted?! Did that mean Italy was stronger then he was?! Both of his hands flew to cover his mouth. Did that mean he was...weaker then Italy! The thought made his skin crawl.

"Get a hold of yourself Germany. You are just over reacting." He ran a hand through his blonde hair. "None of this is making sense. And besides Japan was just saying vhat he thought, doesn't mean it's true."

Still lost in his sea of conflicting thoughts Germany wandered about the house. He went from room to room softly mumbling to himself. His temper raged and once he found himself in front of Italy's bedroom door he couldn't contain it anymore. "ITALYYYYY!" He screamed, kicking the door wide open.

"G-germany. Wh-what a pleasant surprise."

"We need to talk."

"A-about what?" He pulled the blanket up to his nose. Germany voice scared him more then usual.

"Let me see your foot."

"Um...you can't."

"And vhy not?"

"It...uh...went-a...sight seeing?"

"Your foot...went sight seeing." Germany crossed his arms.

"You know...Bradenburg Gate, The Reichstag, Memorial Church." Italy chuckled.

"And how did it get zere vithout your body?"

"Well...you see..." Germany yanked the blanket off, much to Italy's surprised. "Ahh!"

"You vere saying?"

"He came back-a early! Foot-sie how was your flight?"

"Just stop Italy. I know what's going on." He sat on the bed next to the frightened brunette, whom inched away.

"You...you do. Are you mad?"

"Do I look mad?" Germany scowled.

"That is-a trick question. You always look mad."

The blonde sighed. "Why did you lie to me?"

"About my foot going on vacation?"

"No. About being hurt." His temper was still raging, but he managed to keep his tone under control. Yelling at Italy wouldn't help the situation if anything it'd make things worse.

"But I was-a hurt." Italy paused and looked down at his hands. "I just got-a better sooner then I said."

"Vhy didn't you just tell me?"

"Because I like you being-a nice to me." A few tears welled in his brown eyes. "It was strange, having you wait on me; bringing me-a food and-a drinks and-a wrapping my foot. You made me feel...special. Like you _liked _me."

"That's it?" Germany replied after a short pause.

"Y-yes." Italy's gaze did not move from his hands.

"Dummkopf." A light blush appeared on Germany's face and he lifted the brunettes chin slightly before planting a soft kiss on his lips. "Of course I like you."


End file.
